Double or Nothing
by Madame007
Summary: The natural attraction between Kurt Weller and Jane Doe is noted by other members of the team. What happens when the ladies band together to win a bet?
1. Chapter 1: The Challenge

**Double-or-Nothing**

I don't own Blindspot or any of its characters. I only borrow them to play with once in a while.

 _Blindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspot_

Tuesday, 7:08 am

"Double or nothing" challenges Reade.

"Double or nothing _what_?" snaps Zapata.

The two agents stand in line at their favorite coffee shop across the street from the FBI building. The line is long and apparently not moving very quickly.

"Double or nothing that my boy, Weller, makes the first move on our mystery lady, Jane." Reade has an avid look in his eyes.

"Ha!" spits out Zapata. "' _Your boy'_ , she kicks in the air quotes, "Weller is so in denial that the loves jones he has for Jane that he might as well be Egyptian."

"Impressive, Zapata, impressive. Egyptian: the Nile, denial. You're a regular wordsmith. Amazing that you're able to handle more than a few grunts before your morning coffee." Reade fires back.

Zapata gives him a forced grin and crosses her arms.

"Really?" Zapata rolls out the syllables while rolling her eyes, "I was going to be nice to you because it's obvious you're going to lose our original bet. But since you're being your more-than-normally cocky and annoying self, I'll take you on. Double-or-nothing, Reade. Easiest money I'll ever make," Zapata shoots back.

"Jane can't even remember her real name. You think she's even thinking about Kurt _that way_?" Incredulous, Reade continues. "She may be able to kicks some serious butt at times, Zee, when she's not too busy making big scared doe eyes at Weller. She's not thinking about jumping Weller's bones. Trust me, I'd know…" Reade asserts.

"Well, now we just confirmed your continuing lack of understanding the basics of the opposite gender. Jane couldn't be more obvious in the signals she's been throwing out Weller's way", Zapata chortles. "Trust _ME_. Jane will definitely be the first one to cross the line and lay a big fat one on 'your boy' Weller." Again, she throws up the finger air quotes, a mocking smirk stretching her full lips.

She turns forward, pony tail swinging, impatiently staring at the front of the line. _What is taking so effing long?_ Zapata thinks to herself while she grinds her teeth in frustration.

"Woman, you don't know anything. Weller has been making moony puppy eyes at Jane since practically day one. He's always standing near her, he's handsy with her, always putting his hand out to touch her, and the concept of personal space doesn't seem to exist for those two. I've never seen Weller be anything other than distant and professional. That isn't the case with Jane. Those two act like they're caught in each other's gravitation pull or something. And when they went undercover as a married couple, there's no way there wasn't some "convincing acting" that took place. He's just working that Weller charm on her." Reade insists.

"Weller charm?", Zapata snort laughs, " You mean Weller cluelessness. Any dang fool can see he's attracted to Jane, but he's nowhere near ready to admit it to himself; much less act on his feelings. Try to follow along, Reade. IN DENIAL."

She starts singing, "D – E – N – I – A – L."

Reade gives her an exasperated look but chooses to remain silent.

The line creeps forward so that they're now fourth in line. Zapata looks at her phone.

"At this rate, glaciers move faster than this goddamn line," grates Zapata.

"At this rate, you might tear someone's head off before we can get some coffee into you. Maybe I shouldn't be standing next to you." Reade sidesteps slowly away from Zapata while giving her a wary side-eye.

"Yeah, you stand over there. Your deodorant isn't working so hot, "she waves her hand in front of her nose, rolling her eyes and giving a fake-stumble like she was going to pass out.

Reade gives her a disgusted look. "If you keep rolling your eyes that hard, you might bruise your brain."

"At least I have a brain…", Zapata growls.

"That's questionable." Reade starts.

Zapata holds up her hand. She looks at her phone again. She fidgets from foot to foot. "I NEED some damn coffee."

She turns to look at Reade. "Seriously, though, let's do this. Double-or-nothing."

"For real?" Reade's eyebrows shoot up. He looks unconvinced yet hopeful.

"If Jane is the first to lay a lip lock on Weller, I win. If Weller ever wakes up enough to make the first move on Jane, you win." Zapata sticks her hand out towards Reade.

"Now, I like a woman who likes to live dangerously. Dangerously going to lose this bet." Reade quips as he reaches out to shake her hand.

"Then it's a deal. Like taking candy from a baby", Zapata agrees.

"Deal." Reade shakes her hand and stands back, looking overly full of himself.

 _Go ahead and grin your fool face off, Reade_ , Zapata thinks. _But you won't be smiling when you're paying up._

Zapata grins to herself, secure in the knowledge that not only will Jane win the race for giving Weller the first kiss, but Zapata knows exactly what she's going to do to assure Jane's success.

 _End_


	2. Chapter 2: And Then there was Two

**Double-or-Nothing  
Chapter 2: Now there are two**

I don't own Blindspot or any of its characters. I only borrow them to play with once in a while.

 _Blindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspot_

Tuesday, 12:15 pm  
Patterson's office, FBI Building, NYC

"Is there any soy sauce?" Patterson asks as she lays out her Chinese take-out lunch on her desk. She makes sure to arrange them in a grid pattern, all the containers 90 and 180 degrees to one another.

Zapata watches her, her brows lifting in disbelief as Patterson arranges her napkin to line up perfectly perpendicular to the right of her largest container. She places the chopsticks straight and centered on the napkin. She moves the chopsticks a bit more to the right, gives it a long look, and returns them to the center of the napkin.

When Zapata still hasn't answered and the silence runs longer than normal, Patterson looks up to meet Zapata's slightly incredulous gaze. "What?"

"You like to make everything nice and organized, don't you?" Zapata asks.

"Yes, a place for everything and everything in its place. Why?"

"No reason." Zapata looks at the disorganized jumble of her take out containers set up on the clean corner of Patterson's large desk. She looks into the delivery bag and pulls out two soy sauce packets and hands them to Patterson. "Here are two. There are two more. Do you want them?"

"No, two are fine. Thank you." answers Patterson.

Both women settle in to eat lunch.

"It's been a while since I ate Chinese from Golden Pagoda." says Zapata, slurping up some soup, "they make the best chicken rice soup."

"I know. It's so good. We should order from them more often." Patterson primly places several paper napkins across her lap and starts eating her soup. Her manners are such that you would think she was eating off fine bone china with the Queen.

Zapata watches her and slowly shakes her head to herself. She grins and thinks _Patterson, you're just a tad OCD, you're just a little kooky, but I still like you._ She and Patterson continue to eat their soup. They sit in companionable silence until all the soup is gone.

"Did they send any duck sauce?" Patterson asks. Zapata reaches for the delivery bag again and pulls out two duck sauce packets and hands them to Zapata.

"Thank you." Patterson adds primly, taking the packets gingerly from Zapata's hand. She delicately opens the take out containers and serves herself the pineapple shrimp and fried rice in tidy little piles on her paper plate.

Zapata watches her closely, again, fascinated while opening her own containers. Not standing on any ceremony, especially since she is famished, she heaps large mounds of the broccoli and chicken and fried rice on her plate. She doesn't have time to mince around. She is so hungry she was _hangry._

After the first bites, both women look at each other and roll their eyes in ecstasy. The food is as excellent as they remembered.

"Oh my god. I forgot how good their pork fried rice was…" moans Patterson.

"Damn, why haven't I ordered this more often?" Zapata adds in with her moan.

A few more chopstick-fuls make their way into their mouths. Patterson's plate is soon clean and she adds a second serving, the portion size twice as large as the first.

"Do you think this is as good as the Red Dragon on 63rd?" asks Patterson.

"No way, they have great egg rolls but their chicken rice soup and fried rice don't stand a chance to this." Zapata answers with her mouth half-full, pointing enthusiastically to her plate with her chop sticks.

"I wonder if Jane likes Chinese food? She probably does since she can speak Chinese." wonders Patterson.

"I don't know but that's a good question", adds Zapata.

"Maybe we should have invited Jane to join us for lunch. It could help her figure out what some of her favorites are."

"We'll have to invite her to join us next time we get Chinese takeout." Zapata adds, just getting warmed up to the subject. She knew Patterson fairly well after working with her for five years. She knew her co-worker had a strong sense of right and wrong and was an avid defender of the underdog. These are the traits she depended on so that she could launch the first phase of her master plan.

Zapata also knew that if she stayed somewhat quiet and appeared noncommittal, that Patterson would lead them down the natural conclusion she sought…

"It must be so hard having no memories," Patterson was gazing off into the distance, her chopsticks hovering forgotten over her plate, "Imagine not remembering your name, who you are, where you come from. No memories of times with your loved ones…" At this, the hand holding her chopsticks mid-air falls listless to the desktop. Her eyes refocus and start to look wet. Patterson blinks rapidly, fighting her eyes from getting even more teary. She drags a labored breath in and starts to blow it out but it hitches as if her throat is tightly constricted.

"It must feel so empty. No memories at all. No new ones…" A second labored breath is dragged in and again is jaggedly pushed out. Patterson's eyes start welling up with tears and her face is about to crumple.

Zapata drops her chopsticks on her plate and places her hand over Patterson's nearest one. She gives a good squeeze. Patterson's eyes swing and lock on Zapata's gaze.

"I miss Da….", a big swallow, "I miss David." It comes out of Patterson as a tortured whisper. Zapata can easily read the pain that is ebbing off Patterson in waves. Her own throat feels a little tight and her own eyes start to sting with potential tears just seeing her friend in this state.

"Hey. Hey. You're going to be okay." Zapata states in a serious and low tone and another long squeeze of Patterson's hand, "We know how much you cared about him. It's okay to remember him. It's okay for _you_ to remember him."

Patterson glances away from Zapata, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with her paper napkin. The tears haven't spilled over. But it had been really close. She takes a shaky deep breath and then a second one.

"I just don't want to break down into a full sob here at work. I'd be so embarrassed. I have a really ugly cry face." Patterson tries to joke. Zapata knows that under the thin varnish of humor is a mountain of pain and loss.

"You don't have to worry about how you look around me. I've seen you when you came in sick with that 48-hour stomach virus, remember? You came in even though you were one step away from death's door because we needed your help on that Flantasco case. You were greener than Shrek. And you kept hurling into your garbage basket." Zapata can't keep herself from chuckling.

Patterson's face breaks out in a small, self-deprecating smile. "Yeah, and Reade wouldn't come within 50 feet of me. Every time I had to hurl, he broke out in a sweat, a gagging noise came out of his mouth, and he ran for the men's room."

"Most peaceful time I've had working in this office in a long time. Even with you upchucking your stomach contents every 10 minutes. Putting up with Reade is far worse than working with you with your killer stomach flu bug any day", Zapata smiles looking at Patterson.

Both women try to keep a straight face but both crack up. They laugh so hard they have to hold their sides and their middles because they're so sore from the rolling laughter. The absurdity of recalling Reade's reaction and a miserable green-faced Patterson are enough so that when one round of laughter stops, they only have to look at each other and start hooting and hollering all over again.

"Reade!" Gasps Zapata.

"He looked like he was going…." Gasps Patterson.

"To hurl on his new $600 loafers!" gasps Zapata.

The two women hoot and holler some more until tears of mirth stream down their face. After a few more rounds of full belly laughter, the ladies calm down enough to sit back in their chairs. They each swab at their hot cheeks to wipe off the wet tracks.

"Oh my god, that was funny." Patterson shakes her head.

"That Reade…" Zapata shakes her head. Her coworkers were real works of art sometimes.

"We really should help Jane, though." Patterson proclaims a bit more soberly.

"Well, we did say we would take her shopping that night we went out drinking." adds Zapata helpfully.

"She looked at you when you said something about her clothes with a "What's wrong with my clothes?" I think you might have offended her a little bit, Zee."

"Well, it wasn't intended to offend her. She's got probably like 10 pieces of clothing total. They all fall into the same things: tank tops, jeans, and hoodies." Zapata snorts, "We know there is way more options available out there."

"Jane has a really nice shape. I could totally see her in bright colors and patterns. Maybe an ikat print or a nice boho print! I think she'd look good in gemstone colors like sapphire, emerald, and ruby. Maybe we could take her to Benetton, Brooks Brothers, J. Crew, and Burberry! Why, she'll need new boots, too. Riding boots, ankle boots, rain boots…!" Patterson was known in the department as having a bit of a shopping addiction.

"Are we shopping for Jane or are we shopping for you?" Zapata teased.

"Well, Jane of course! But that doesn't mean we can't pick up a little something for ourselves if we just happened to find something that is truly joy sparking." Patterson looked more than enthusiastic. She looked even a little manic. The shopping bug was strong in this one.

"Well, I think we need to introduce Jane slowly to the world of fashion. We know that right now, the only colors in her wardrobe are black, white, gray, gray, and more gray. So maybe what we need to do is introduce her to stores that use the colors and clothes she already likes to wear but do them with more sophistication. Better fabrics and better construction."

"True. What stores did you have in mind?"

"Well, Ann Taylor for one. This season they have a lot of those basic colors and a very muted color palette. They have great construction. Banana Republic also has more classic looks and their patterns and colors are more constrained. Calvin Klein most definitely and maybe even Ann Taylor Loft because they have more color and patterns but still in keeping with a casual style." Zapata ponders while tapping her finger to her chin.

"Those are all good places to start. We definitely have to get her clothes that she can move and run in. For those times that she's kicking arse." Patterson enthuses.

"True, we need clothing that will look good, have good functional comfort, and stand up to a beating." Zapata continues, "Maybe some really good jeans, too."

"Too bad there isn't a brand out there made for the alleged navy seal who gets in fist fights, gun fights, speaks two dozen languages, all while saving the world." Patterson giggles.

"Ha. Yeah, don't think they have that brand out yet. Are you free tomorrow night?" asks Zapata.

"Barring any tattoo being decoded by the computer system between now and then, I should be free as of 4:30pm."

"Same here. I'll ask and see if Jane is free tomorrow night. We can make it a girls' night out." Zapata grins, feeling very self-satisfied.

"Okay. Do you think Jane would let us do something with her hair? Maybe a mani and pedi?" wonders Patterson.

"Well, we can put that on the list but I'm not sure Jane will recall having gotten a mani or a pedi. Can you imagine her reaction when the pedicurist starts to scrape off the dead skin on the bottom of the feet?!" chortles Zapata.

"You mean when they hit that super-ticklish area and you are seriously scared you might kick out in reaction?" Patterson grins, her eyes alive with mischief.

"Only in Jane's case, she might round-house kick the pedicurist in the head and put her in a choke hold. On second thought, we might want to wait on that mani/pedi." guffaws Zapata.

"Yeah, let's just take her shopping for something other than jeans, tanks, and hoodies. I'd love to see Jane in a dress or skirt. Show off those legs of hers." The gears in Patterson's fashionista mind already turning.

 _I bet Weller would like to see her in dress or skirt again_ , thinks Zapata. She smirks and chuckles to herself.

Zapata is beyond pleased that she was able to recruit Patterson to help her with Phase 1 of what she has now named **_Operation Jeller_**.

 _End_


	3. Chapter 3: Scent of a Woman

Blindspot and its characters do not belong to me. I only borrow them to toy with from time to time.

BlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspot

 **Double or Nothing – Chapter 3: The Scent of a Woman**

"Get back in the dressing room!" Zapata steps in the doorway to block Jane's attempted escape, arm up pointing Jane back inside.

"These fit fine. I like these", Jane pleads while pointing to the jeans she has on.

Zapata isn't buying it. "That's the first pair of jeans you've tried on. There's another eight pairs in there with you. You're trying all of them on until we find the perfect one."

"These work just fine", Jane insists.

Zapata rolls her eyes, mumbling to herself that she needs the patience of a saint. It wasn't a good sign that Jane was turning out to have little stamina for shopping. They were only on store number two.

"There are five different fits and three different washes in there. We won't know which ones will fit you best until you try them all on", Patterson explains calmly, overhearing the exchange. She approaches the dressing room with her arms full of sweaters and tops.

Jane blows a long sigh, eyeing the new pile of clothes in Patterson's grasp, and gets the caged look in her eyes again. Zapata moves to more fully block the door of the dressing room. She senses Jane is ready to bolt.

Patterson squeezes past Zapata to enter Jane's dressing room, calmly hooks up the dozen sweaters and tops in an orderly fashion grouped by color family, and turns to Jane. "Look, we know this can be bit overwhelming at first. Right now, we have to start from the very beginning. You have to try on a variety of things and then we narrow things down to the few styles that you like and look good. Consider this fashion recon."

"Fashion recon?" Jane's eyebrows shoot up. She looks unconvinced. Patterson exits the dressing room and turns around to watch Jane from over Zapata's shoulder.

"We do all the groundwork now, and in the future, it will be much easier. You'll know the several styles you like and what stores to get them. Shopping will be a breeze," Zapata explains, "Consider this exploring more of the things you like. You have to give it a chance, Jane. It will help you get better bearings in your new life."

"Okay, I'll try on the other jeans." Jane, nonplussed, turns back and closes the door to the dressing room. The third pair of jeans she comes out wearing get thumbs up from both Patterson and Zapata.

"Dark wash, midrise, boot cut. These look fantastic on you!" Patterson gushes as Jane stands in front of a three-way mirror. Jane smiles tentatively and a beginning glimmer of confidence lights her eyes.

"These do look nice. And they're comfortable." Jane does a back kick, drops into a deep squat and then bounces back up to standing. "They stay in place. Plenty of stretch. Good for field work."

"Well, looks like we've met all three criteria for jeans Jane can kick ass in." Zapata injects dryly. "Turn around." Zapata directs by lifting her hand and doing a little twirl with her pointer finger over Jane's head.

Jane slowly turns around, stopping with her back to the mirror. She looks back over her shoulder at her reflection.

"These jeans do amazing thing for your ass. And look how long your legs look in this cut!" Zapata asserts.

Jane looks a bit self-conscious. "What does it matter how my butt looks in these jeans? As long as I can run and move in them, they work." Jane answers.

"Well, there's no reason you can't kick ass and look hot while doing it. Plus, don't you want to go into work tomorrow and blow our coworkers' minds?" Zapata watches Jane's face closely. Patterson's eyes swing to Jane's face, too, upon hearing Zapata's comment.

Jane's cheeks flood with a slight rosy color. "There's no one I need to impress." Her voice is unsure and a bit high-pitched. Jane's facial expression and body language contradict her words. Both Zapata and Patterson glance at each other with a knowing look, silently acknowledging there is one co-worker: male, tall, powerfully built, with a ferocious protective streak for Jane, that most definitely would sit up and take notice if Jane showed up to work with a newly acquired set of outfits.

 _Watch out, Weller,_ Zapata thinks. _I can't wait to see your face when I'm done…_

After the almost-jeans-meltdown-fiasco and ongoing soothing of Jane's apprehensions , Jane walks out of the store with five pairs of jeans: the dark wash boot cut jeans and four pairs of the same skinny jeans. Jane liked the option of having them in black and blue so Zapata added two of each color to the pile she carried to the cash register.

This was not some fashionista miracle as hoped by Zapata and Patterson. It was simply the fact that Jane had to admit that she needed to replace the ratty jeans she had on plus the other two pairs sitting in her hamper at home. All three had been destroyed in rough-and-tumble missions. Apparently tackling FBI fugitives on the run were not good for the longevity of her clothing. She didn't own a pair of jeans that didn't have holes in it. The pair she had on had a hole in the crotch that she hadn't shown to Zapata or Patterson. She knew they would have teased her mercilessly and make her throw them out and then buy TEN PAIRS of jeans. She shivers at the thought.

The weight of the shopping bag pulling her arm down, Jane now knows what _fit_ and _wash_ mean, what size she wore, and what store to find the jeans when she needed to replace them. Jane felt a certain amount of comfort in gathering new knowledge that contributed to her feeling more _normal._ Because if there is anything she has felt since waking up in that bag in Time Square, it was not normal.

"Okay, we've got you some good jeans. Now, we need to look at tops and some shoes. But first, I think we should stop at the makeup counter", Patterson suggested enthusiastically. Zapata glances at Patterson, narrowing her eyes. She smells a half-truth. She knows Patterson was obsessed with makeup.

"And is there anything you're looking for?" casually inquires Zapata.

"There's a new Burberry scent that just came out…" Patterson stopps mid-sentence. She had fallen right into that one.

"Ah-ha! You're shopping for you!" Zapata mocks with glee, pointing a finger at Patterson.

Patterson flushes with a comical deer-in-headlights expression on her face. Patterson waves her hand at Zapata, as if she was shooing away her friend and her accusation.

"No! No! I'm not! I just thought Jane might like to check out scents and see if any appeal to her." Zapata watches avidly as Patterson stammers, making a pathetic attempt at back pedaling. Patterson was amazingly easy to get flustered. It was one of the main joys of hanging out with her. If there was anything Zapata enjoyed, it was making people squirm.

Zapata is struck with the idea that a tantalizing scent would definitely drive Weller bonkers. Smiling coyly, she teases Patterson, "Well, we won't lose much time buying scents for you if we're already buying one for Jane."

"Why do I need perfume?" Jane asks, "I think I smell just fine." She lifts the collar of her tee shirt and takes a whiff, her brows screwed up in worry.

"No, it's not because you smell bad, Jane. A signature scent is a must for any attractive female. It's something that is subtle yet leaves an impression on people. Think of it as smelling _better_ than normal. If you smell good, people will be drawn to you. It's tapping into the underappreciated sense of smell", Patterson extols, taking a delicate sniff of her own wrist before she turns and smiles warmly at the other two women.

"Okay, Miss walking talking Chanel No. 5 commercial. Let's go to the perfume counters and see what they've got." Zapata interjects.

The three walk into the large department store at one end of the mall. Jane glances over the dozen or more perfume counters. "There's a lot of perfumes." Jane states flatly, looking more than a bit timid.

"We don't need to try them all. First we're going to see what perfume profile you like best. There are only a few: floral, spicy, fruity, and musky. There are a few outliers but most fall into these four families," Patterson instructs.

Patterson walks up to one case and picks up a sample bottle, spritzing the scent on a paper strip. She shakes the paper allowing the alcohol to evaporate. She sniffs the paper and holds it out to Jane. "This is a floral scent."

Jane leans forward and sniffs the paper. "That smells okay. But it's a bit strong."

"Okay, come over here and let's try this one", Patterson moves to the next display an spritzes a new paper strip. After waving it, she holds it out to Jane.

Jane steps forward and smells the paper. "Mmm. I like this better. Smells like fruit?"

"Yes, exactly! This is a fruity scent." Patterson encourages as a smile appears on Jane's lips.

"Okay, we'll keep fruity as number one for now. Let's try this one next. The three women move to a display of pale gold bottles with red and black boxes.

"This one will be spicy." Patterson explains, repeating the previous steps and handing the strip to Jane.

Jane takes a smell, face in a grimace as she immediately jerks her head away and holds the paper far from her nose. "Ugh, that is way too much. I don't like that one at all."

"Okay, that helps to eliminate that scent profile. Ex-nay on the spic-ay. Let's look at this one", Patterson points to the next counter. "This one falls into the musky family and I like these scents personally. They use a lot of earthy tones like cedar, sandalwood, and ylang ylang."

Patterson lifts a simple dark-tinted bottle with a copper leaf printed on the front. Patterson repeats the same spritz-and-aerate sequence. This time, she lifts the paper strip to her own nose. Patterson's eyelids dropping as she appreciates the scent before handing it to Jane. "This has a soft warm earthy smell with a slight musky undernote. Nothing overpowering."

Jane holds the paper a few inches away from her nose and takes a sniff. She brings the paper closer and takes a longer, deeper smell. A peaceful, somewhat Zen-like expression overtakes her face. She touches the paper right under her nose, takes a third and deepest sniff, her nostrils flaring.

"This is nice." Jane breathes out in a blissed-out voice. Her pupils are dilated and she appears to be in some kind of drug-high state. Zapata watches this all in wild fascination. _If this scent has that effect on Jane,_ Zapata things, _would it have a similar effect on Weller?_

Zapata turns to Patterson. "Looks like not only did you find her scent family, you hit upon her scent on the first try."

Jane smiles at the two women, a beatific look on her face. "I can see what you mean about a scent now. I can't help myself from wanting to smell this. I want to soak a blanket in this and wrap it around myself. I want to take a bath in this."

Patterson spritzes another strip with the scent and hands it to Zapata. Zapata waves it a few times and takes a sniff. "Oooooh. That's nice," she takes a second smell, "I smell clean air, cedar, with a hint of something like patchouli."

Zapata turns to Jane. "You wear this and you'll stop any red-blooded man that comes within twenty feet of you dead in his tracks. That is some seriously potent stuff."

Jane looks slightly uncomfortable under Zapata's focused gaze.

"Well, I don't need a scent for _that_ reason," she mumbles.

"You don't need a scent for any other reason than you like it and it makes you feel good", comforts Patterson.

Patterson, still with the bottle in hand, moves towards Jane. "Well, we know you like the scent, but we need to try it on you. Each scent reacts differently due to each individual's unique body chemistry. A perfume may smell good on you and not me, for example."

Patterson gently reaches for Jane's right arm. She pushes her hoodie sleeve up to above her elbow. "You want to apply the scent to your pulse points. Here", she applies a light spritz to the inside crook of Jane's elbow, "and here", with a second spritz to the inside of her wrist.

"Now take the scent on your wrist and rub it onto your other wrist", Patterson instructs while demonstrating the motion with her own wrists.

After a slight hesitation, Jane pushes her left hoodie sleeve up and rubs her inner wrists together.

"Good! Now, your left inner elbow", Patterson points to Jane's sleeve. Jane pushes that sleeve up and allows Patterson to spritz her other inner elbow.

"Now we put some on the pulse point right behind the ears. Patterson spritzes one right over the birds wings and another spritz behind her other ear.

"Those are the three areas that most women spray their perfume." Patterson continues.

Zapata, a small enigmatic smile on her lips, picks up where Patterson leaves off. "My older sister always told me to apply perfume anywhere you wanted your lover to kiss you. The pulse points behind the ears, at the wrists, and inside the elbow are extremely sensitive erogenous zones."

"What are _erogenous zones_?" Jane looks perplexed.

Zapata grins sagely. "Erogenous zones are parts of your body that when touched by a lover can be extremely stimulating; as in creating a heightened sexual arousal."

"Oh." Jane looks down at her wrists and elbows with her new found knowledge.

 _Hey, Jane, put that into your little special ops brains and let that marinate._ Zapata smirks to herself.

"There are other areas you can apply scent, like behind the knees, the inner thighs, and other strategic areas to entice a lover…", Zapata continues as Jane's face pinks up with a blush. She wonders how far she can tease Jane before she heats up to a full fireball-red blush. Zapata hopes that if Jane is thinking of an imaginary lover pressing his hot mouth to those pulse points, he had Weller's face. Zapata watches as Jane shifts uncomfortably, squeezing her thighs together, chest moving with her suddenly labored breathing.

 _Well, look at that. If she's not showing signs of arousal already and all we're doing is talking_. Zapata knew this was too good to be true. Jane had it bad for Weller. Like take an hour-long ice shower bad. And Weller was going to be in for one happy shock when Jane finally acted upon what appeared to a simmering volcano of pent-up sexual frustration held in precarious check at the moment.

"Wow! Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?" Patterson interjects and Jane throws her an appreciative look. Patterson's color was a bit high herself. Could Zapata have unsettled both women so easily? She files this information away for a future date.

"Well, scent can indeed be used for _that_ reason but I wear scent because I love to smell good." Patterson rambles. "What do you think of the scent on you, Jane?"

Jane lifts her wrist to her nose and takes an exploratory snuffle. A smile plays across her face. She takes a second, deeper smell and the grin widens. "I really like this. I'm starting to see why you like perfume, Patterson."

"Can I smell?" Patterson asks. Jane lifts her wrist for Patterson to smell. "Wow, that smells even better on you than on the paper strip."

Patterson grasps Jane's upturned wrist and moves it toward Zapata. "What do you think, Zee?"

Zapata takes a quick sniff and darn if Patterson isn't right. It is a great scent but on Jane it smells fantastic. "Yeah, that's definitely your scent, Jane", Zapata acknowledges.

"I'm going to buy this for you!" Patterson declares.

"No. No, I can't let you do that", Jane argues.

Patterson waves away Jane's refusal. "I want to buy this for you. Consider it an early Christmas present."

Jane looks like she wants to protest again but Patterson cuts her off again, her voice in a more somber tone. "Please, Jane, let me treat you to this. I really love shopping for Christmas presents, and this year…", Patterson stops, looking down at the ground, hand tightening around the perfume bottle.

Jane's face and resolve soften. "Okay."

Patterson looks up and a tremulous smile crosses her face. She looks over at the display and a look of elation transforms her features, "Oh, there is a Christmas gift set special! You get the perfume, soap, shampoo, and body lotion all for only $95.00."

Patterson moves to grab the metallic copper and blue gift box set and heads straight for a cash register. Jane, newly aghast upon hearing the price, takes a step to follow Patterson about to protest anew.

Zapata reaches out for Jane's arm, stopping her in midstride. "Let her", Zapata counsels. "She's going to have one shitty Christmas; the first without David."

Jane looks torn, part of her not feeling comfortable with accepting Patterson's generosity and another part concerned for Patterson's emotional well-being. "She doesn't need to spend that kind of money…"

"Let her, Jane. She wants to do something nice for you and at the same time, you letting her is doing something nice for her. It's a win/win situation in my book."

Jane looks over at Patterson and then back to Zapata. "I'm not used to someone being this nice to me. I don't…" Jane is having difficulty putting words to her tumultuous feelings.

"You'll get used to it; just like you'll get used to getting teased by me and Patterson about guys and sex. It's what girlfriends do. It's how we show we care. Patterson buys, I tease, it's all in good fun." Zapata shrugs, a funny little smile on her face.

"We're friends, then?" Jane inquires.

"Yeah, we're friends." Zapata pats Jane on the shoulder. "And as your friend, I'm going to continue taking you shopping until we have a new look for you that will sizzle the boxers off all the guys in the office!" Zapata chortles, imagining Weller's face when she's done executing her plan. Zapata found herself in an amazingly ebullient mood.

"What is with these continuous innuendos about guys we work with?" Jane cries. Zapata thinks Jane is finally putting two and two together. Zapata never underestimated Jane's intelligence. Rather, she only questioned how long Jane would stay unaware of her plans; allowing her the ease of carrying them out without Jane's direct opposition. She needs to win this bet. She would never live down Reade's sore winner face. **_Ever._**

"It's not just them. I only mention them because they're practically the only men you interact with", Zapata explains, trying to throw Jane off the scent of her true intentions. "Which means we need another special girls' night out so you can meet some new fellas. Maybe get you a date!" Zapata adds gleefully. _Let's see how Jane reacts to this bit of news._

"A date? I… I don't….I don't about that." Jane, flustered, stammers. She crosses her arms tightly around herself looking totally out of her comfort zone.

"Well, you have got to get out of that safe house. We're definitely taking you out drinking again. Blow off some steam; socialize with people who are not FBI. Call it training to return to a normal life", Zapata adds.

"Well, as long as you two are with me, maybe I'll think about talking to new people. I don't know how Mayfair or Weller will feel about my making friends outside of the FBI. Isn't that against the rules of being an FBI asset?"

"Mayfair and Weller can't keep you locked up for months and years, Jane. You're human. Eventually, you're going to want a normal life. Take some small steps with me and Patterson. Your security detail will always be there. Think of it as testing the waters a little bit at a time." Zapata knows how strongly Jane wants out of the safe house and a return to some semblance of normal.

Jane squares her shoulders and sets her jaw firmly. "You're right. I can't stand that safe house. I want to go out for another girls' night. I'm not sure about dating, but I definitely want to meet some new friends."

"Okay, well, we'll do that and get you some new clothes and this perfume. Think of it as Operation New Jane.

Jane perks up at this. Any metaphor that taps into her previous training seems immediately comforting and familiar.

The two look over to see Patterson at the Burberry counter, spritzing and sniffing scents.

"I knew she was going to shop for herself!", fake growls Zapata.

"Well, she definitely is a power shopper", Jane adds, knowing the evening of being stuffed into more dressing rooms while piles of clothes were thrown at her by these two was far from over; many hours from being over. _I can get through it_ , she thinks. Already she has great jeans and best of all, a new amazing scent. She feels like a regular woman doing regular woman activities with woman friends. She hugs this new sense of normality close. Outwardly, Zapata could watches Jane relax.

"Let's go get her. I want to take you to Ann Taylor to get some sweaters and tops. They're having a 40% off everything in the store sale today." Zapata moves towards the Burberry counter.

Jane and Zapata collect Patterson who had indeed bought herself the new Burberry scent. Patterson offers her wrist to both woman who sniff and agree it is indeed a good choice. Patterson hands the bag with Jane's perfume gift set to her and Jane quietly thanked her. Patterson beams a huge grin.

"We've got lots more shopping!" Color high, eyes particularly bright, Patterson leads the charge back into the mall.

Zapata smiles; giving herself a personal congratulatory high-five. Her observations of Special Agent Weller over the past five years have allowed her to catalogue several facts.

One: When Weller took vacation time, the very few times he did take vacation, he always headed for the pine-covered mountains to hike and camp. He was able to escape the people and problems that were the dark underbelly of society that their FBI work continuously exposed you to. The woods allowed him to decompress in quiet solitude, far away from the frenetic energy and the high-stress demands of his job. Zapata noted that upon his return, Weller always seemed more relaxed and calm. Well, relaxed and calm for Weller.

Two: Weller and Jane seemed unconsciously drawn to be in each other's personal space. She knew that if Jane started wearing her new scent, Weller was sure to notice.

Three: Weller, for all of his alpha male bristly self, was a man who took care of himself. He was well-groomed and aware of the fit and style of his clothes. He was also known to wear a woodsy scent; one that he wore every day to the office. Zapata appreciated her well-groomed, nicely- scented coworkers, seeing as their team often worked in tight quarters on cases.

Four: Zapata had recognized the name of the perfume Jane had selected for herself. And this is where Zapata gleefully did an inner touch-down victory dance. She couldn't have planned it better herself.

Because Jane had picked the perfume from the same line of cologne Weller wore. Zapata knew the bottle by sight; Weller kept one in his work locker and applied it after he showered.

Zapata smirks. _Operation Jeller is underway and oh, it's just starting to get good._


	4. Chapter 4: Auld Lang Syne

Blindspot and its characters do not belong to me. I only borrow them to toy with from time to time. _*evil grin*_

 _BlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspot_

 **Double or Nothing – Chapter 4: Auld Lang Syne**

Thursday, 12/31/15, 3:30 pm  
Jane's Safe House

Jane stood looking at the mountain of shopping bags that covered her couch. Upstairs, three garments bags hung on the hook inside her bedroom door. She hadn't unpacked all the bags from last week's shopping trip. It was overwhelming to have so much when she had so little before.

Too few garments. Too few memories. Too little history. Too little life.

But that had changed since Patterson and Zapata took her under their wings, dragging her shopping not only once, twice, but again last weekend. They were dedicated to adding to the pile of shopping bags that Jane couldn't unpack fast enough.

In between trips to the mall and boutiques, there had been a girls' night out at a local bar and a visit to a nail salon. No nail technicians had been injured in the process of getting Jane's toes to gleam with a ruby red nail lacquer. Or in the time it took to get her fingernails buffed and polished with a palest pink.

She walked into her downstairs half-bath to again stare at her reflection. She was still in awe of what sitting in a salon chair for three hours wrought. Her hair fell in soft, smooth, gleaming waves about her face: tamed by scissors, hair dryer, round brush, and a trio of hair care products.

There was a quick energetic staccato of knocks on her front door. Jane ambled to open the door, already knowing who was waiting for her on the other side.

"Open the door, Jane, we're here to get you ready for the party tonight!" yelled Patterson through the heavy wood.

Jane opened the door to find both ladies half-dressed, Zapata's hair up in a ponytail, and Patterson's hair in rollers under a loose knit hat.

"It's freezing out there! And I brought everything we need to finish getting ready for the party tonight." Patterson cried as she burst through the front door. Jane flattened herself against the front foyer wall, afraid to be steamrolled by the force of nature that was Patterson on full fashion alert.

Patterson clattered into her living room, arms and hands full of bags, and swung a wide arch around and looked at Jane and Zapata.

Zapata entered at a more sedate stroll holding three brown paper bags under her arms.

"Stacey London over there brought over her entire makeup and hair style collection and I brought the adult libations", smirked Zapata after turning around and closing the front door and locking it.

"Are you ready for the last step of your makeover?" Patterson squealed to Jane.

Jane, looking reticent, answered, "I don't think I have much of choice, now do I?"

"Do you have no faith in my fashion makeover skills?" Patterson asked, more teasing but a little worried that Jane wasn't as excited as she was.

"I think I will trust you to not make me look like a clown. You were right with the mani and pedi. And oh, thank you for taking me to Julio. I love my hair."

"Your hair looks awesome. I told you Julio was a wizard with women's hair. I've been going to him for six years now and refuse to let anyone else touch my hair." Patterson prattled on, stooping to let her bags slide off her arms and out of her grasp onto the floor.

It was only then that Patterson saw the couch covered with shopping bags.

"Jane, why are most of your shopping bags still down here?"

Jane blushed. She should have really cleaned up before her guest arrived. But she only had the energy to empty three to four bags per day when she got home at night. Many times, she didn't know how to fold or organize her new clothes. She got so overwhelmed she just gave up and promised to finish it the next day. But the next day became the next, and the next. Jane was ashamed to admit she was a procrastinator and didn't want her friends to think she wasn't appreciative of all their efforts.

Jane approached the couch, quickly grabbing up three bags in one hand and another two in the other. "Ugh, I'll get these upstairs right now. It will only take a few minutes…"

"We don't have time for that right now. Mayfair's party starts at 7:30pm and the taxi is coming to get us at 6:30pm. Let's leave the clean-up for tomorrow. Right now, we have to focus on the three of us finishing getting ready for the party." Zapata placed the alcohol bottles on the dining room table. She walked over and reached for the bags in one of Jane's hands and chucked them back on the couch. Jane slowly dropped the other hand's contents back in the pile, a self-conscious grin ghosting over her mouth.

"We only have three hours. Come on, ladies! Let's get everyone upstairs!" Patterson corralled the other two women towards the stairs, flapping her arms at the other two women with big shoo-shoo motions.

Zapata and Jane stomped up the stairs and all three women congregated in Jane's bedroom. Zapata turned to the three hanging garment bags.

"Is the dress in that one there?" Zapata asked, pointing to the top-most garment bag.

"Yeah. I was thinking maybe I can wear those black pants and silvery top instead. I'm not so sure about putting that on." Jane finished lamely, giving a half-shrug with her shoulders.

"What?! Are you crazy?" Patterson screeched, making a bee-line for the garment bag and unzipping it with a dramatic flourish.

"How can you say no to this gorgeous confection of a dress?!" cried Patterson as she lovingly pulled the dress out on its hanger.

The cocktail dress fell in luscious waves of copper satin, encrusted with light-catching beads and sequins of peacock green and copper. Patterson draped the dress over her two arms and approached Jane.

"This dress was **_made_** for you, Jane. Don't you remember how beautiful you looked in it? And that we found it at a small vintage shop for under $100? Jane, they don't make dresses like this anymore", Patterson gazed mournfully down upon the dress, truly heartbroken at the thought that this dress would remain unworn.

Zapata joined the three women, and caught Jane's gaze. "Why don't you want to wear the dress, Jane?" she asked softly.

" I'm just a normal plain Jane. I like tee shirts and jeans. Women like me don't wear these kinds of things", Jane tried to explain.

"Jane, you **_are_** special. You are not a plain Jane. This dress looked like it was designed for your body. And when you put it on, you looked so happy. Don't you want to be happy?" Patterson queried, her soft eyes falling on Jane's crestfallen face.

"I don't think my tattoos look right in this dress. They clash." Jane's eyes dropped to the floor. She didn't want Zapata and Patterson to see how much she did want to wear the dress. "The dress is so feminine, and my tattoos are anything but…", Jane stopped. She never felt she was very good at explaining what was going on internally for her, emotionally or mentally.

"Oh, Jane." Patterson consoled, letting the dress fall to drape over an arm as she wrapped the other one around Jane's shoulders.

"You're beautiful; inside and out. The tattoos are art. You should be proud to show them off. There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed about." Patterson allowed her head to tilt in until it touched Jane's hair.

"Girl, you need to **_rock_** this dress. This is **your** dress. And if any asshole gives you a wrong look or says one wrong thing, I'll kick their ass six ways from Sunday. No one messes with my girls", Zapata crossed her arms across her chest, setting her face into a hard not-gonna-take-any-shit look.

"It's New Year's Eve, Jane. It's a night that everyone expects you to dress all fancy and get your girl swagger on. Don't let people who don't know you make you put your light under a bushel." Patterson added. Zapata looked over at Patterson with a newfound respect.

"Okay, P-dawg is laying down some wisdom", Zapata nodded in approval at Patterson.

Patterson guffawed. She never thought she could sound street-wise but maybe Zapata was rubbing off on her.

Jane reached out a tentative hand towards the dress, stroking the soft fall of the fabric.

Zapata, tone serious, "You've got to wear this dress, Jane. It was waiting for you to find it in that little shop in SoHo."

Jane continues to caress the dress, remembering how empowered she felt in it, how beautiful the reflection in the mirror looking back at her had been. She had looked elegant. She had looked like a _woman_. She looked breathtakingly _normal_ but also more than normal. She could feel the part of her that wanted to be that woman again. And the part of her that felt that it was all a ridiculous joke.

After a silent minute of contemplation, the part of Jane that was hungry for normal, that felt she deserved her own life, and that demanded to carve out an identity of her own surged forth.

This dress was **_HERS_** goddamn it. And she was going to wear it and love it and damn anyone who didn't agree.

Jane's hand ran up to the hanger and plucked the dress off of Patterson's arm. Her eyes swung up to meet Patterson and Zapata's gazes.

"You're right. I'm going to rock the shit out of this dress." And with that she hung up the dress on the hook over her closet door.

"Well, let's get your makeup started and Zapata can go downstairs and pour us each a glass of scotch." Patterson turned towards Jane and corralled her into her full bath.

Zapata turned away, glad to know that a certain tall, blue-eyed person of the male FBI agent persuasion attending Mayfair's party tonight might be especially surprised with Jane's New Year's Eve outfit.


	5. Chapter 5: Perigee

Blindspot and its characters do not belong to me. I only borrow them to toy with from time to time.

If you want to get a look at the our #Jeller cupcakes were wearing, head over to Pinterest and look for my board: divainjeans/blindspotinista-perigee

 **Perigee** is the closest point between the earth and the moon (or a heavenly body).

The apogee and perigee of the moon have an effect on the tides here on Earth. When the moon or a heavenly body is at perigee, closer to the Earth, there is much more gravitational pull which contributes to higher tides or greater variation in the high and low tide.

 **Pheromones** are naturally occurring odorless substances the fertile body excretes externally, conveying an airborne signal that provides information to, and triggers responses from, the opposite sex of the same species.

BlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspotBlindspot

 **Double or Nothing – Chapter 5: Perigee**

New Year's Eve, 12/31/15, 8:30 pm  
Mayfair's Home, NYC

Weller had made several turns through the rooms of Mayfair's well-appointed brownstone townhouse. The din of the party increased as more people arrived and joined the group that congregated around the catered food laid out on the dining room buffet and table or the more rowdy drinkers hovering by the bar set up in the living room.

The house was festooned with silver gilt holiday decorations and fresh pine greenery. Among the silver and green were interspersed little white Christmas lights and candles that flickered off the surfaces in the dimly lit rooms. Christmas carols played on the well-hidden speakers of the in home audio system, underscoring the happy noise of the party goers.

Weller clutched his second tumbler of whiskey on the rocks as he skulked around the foyer trying to look innocuous. He's leaned against a small recess off the front hall way giving him a perfect view of the front doors ahead as well as the double pocket doors of the front parlor that have been thrown open for the party.

He arrived punctually at 7:30 p.m. on the dot. He was dressed in his tux, the same one he had purchased when he served as best man for an old high school friend's wedding a few years back. He tugged at the red plaid bow tie that Sarah has insisted he wear along with the coordinating pocket square. He'd been here an hour already and was trying his best to keep from appearing bored and restless.

He had made the rounds, engaged in polite chit-chat with work colleagues and their significant others as well as Mayfair's friends and family, all while keeping an eye on the activity at the front door.

The doorbell sounded as one of Mayfair's nieces strode forward to answer the front door. A draft of cold air cascaded over Weller as the latest group entered among happily exchanged greetings, hugs, and the transfer of coats into the arms of the wait staff hired for the party. Weller caught a glimpse of a mop of black curls and automatically stood up from the wall and started to walk towards the front door.

The dark-tressed woman turned around, her brown eyes smiling at Mayfair's niece. Weller stopped mid-stride. It's wasn't who he thought it was.

Kurt returned to his spot on the wall, hating to admit to himself that he's waiting for Jane to arrive. He knew that Zapata and Patterson were going over earlier today to Jane's apartment so they could all get ready for the party together.

Weller lifted his glass to take a slow sip. The familiar fire of the 12 year old whisky hits the back of his throat and warms a path down to his stomach. He checks the time on his vintage Breitling watch: 8:41 pm.

 _Women_ , he thinks. _Why do they always do things in groups? Going to the rest room, getting ready_ …this is something as a guy he just doesn't get.

"So this is where you've been hiding out the last half hour" Reade calls out as he arrived at Kurt's side.

"I'm not hiding." Weller answers, always succinct.

"Okay, if you're not hiding, why are you hanging out here in the hallway alone when everyone is in the living and dining rooms?" Reade retorts.

Kurt draws a heavy silent sigh. He really didn't feel like getting grilled about the what's and why's of his behavior. First of all, he was a supremely private man. Second of all, he didn't want to investigate the what or more specifically the **_who_** that was making him practically stand guard by the front door.

Too much thinking can get a man into trouble.

"You wouldn't be waiting for Jane to arrive, would you?" Reade quizzes Weller as he takes a sip from his martini glass.

"Nope. Just out here getting some fresh air." Kurt hopes his clipped tone and refusal to make eye contact will relay to Reade that he didn't welcome his company much less his questions.

"Well, it sure looks like you're very interested in who's coming in the front door." Reade continues, an eyebrow quirking up as a half-smirk plays over his lips.

Weller gives him a wary side-eye glance. He lifts the whiskey to his lips, taking another long slow sip. At this rate, he'll be three sheets to the wind by the time the women get here. _Where are they?_ His inner voice grates. He winces at the path of his thoughts and turns to Reade.

"Why are you so interested in what I'm doing?"

"Just natural curiosity, that's all." Reade shrugs his shoulders, trying to look nonchalant.

"You've been rather inquisitive of late. Why?" Weller turns the full intensity of his aqua blue eyes directly on Reade.

Reade tries to get a gauge of Weller's emotional state by reading his expression. But like always, Weller is the master of poker faces. He's silent as he mulls over how he should respond.

The doorbell rings and Weller automatically turns towards the door. Mayfair's other niece, the one dressed in red velvet, answers the door.

A large group enters as there are more greetings called out, embraces, kissed cheeks, and the removal of winter coats, scarves, and hats.

Through the crowded hallway, Weller catches of glimpse of dark curls. He leans his upper body away from the wall to see better and catches the curve of that familiar high cheekbone and then a flash of green eyes.

Kurt's body pulls away from the wall as his heart rate picks up. _She's here._

Jane turns, laughing, towards Zapata as they wait their turn to take off their jackets. The first half of the new arrivals move off into the living room to the left and the crowd thins.

The first thing Kurt notices is that her hair is in soft curls caught up in an elegant half chignon. The cold December air has put a delicate flush on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her eyes are rimmed with charcoal and her lids are colored with an intricate application of copper and gold, making her eyes larger and the green even more heart-capturingly vivid.

The three women start taking off their jackets and for Kurt, it is as if the earth has halted on its axis. Jane seems to be moving in slow motion, or at least that is what he will tell himself later when he replays this memory over and over again.

Her coat slips off her shoulder in slow motion and the light catches and flashes on the intricate design of the copper and peacock green beads of her dress strap. Her alabaster skin, miles and miles of soft alabaster skin glowing through her tattoos, is slowly revealed as the coat continues its slow slide down her arms.

Kurt's gut clenches. His mouth goes dry. He's frozen to the spot, shaken by the sudden severity of his reaction. All five senses fixate on Jane and his nostrils flare. He swears he can smell her scent from thirty feet away. He hears only the tinkle of her laughter. His vision fills with nothing but her. His mouth and palms craves the taste and the feel of Jane's skin. To savor, to kiss, to lick, to suck. To consume and be consumed. In every luscious, luminous inch of her.

As Jane moves to take the rest of the coat off, the dress shimmers and slinks over her curves. The beads and sequins catch and reflect the light from the candles and twinkle lights. That dress fits her like a second skin. It was absolute, sin-inducing, lust-enabling, fucking perfection.

 _The dress, my God._ _That dress._ Kurt repeats to himself, stunned.

Kurt's hand tightens on his whiskey glass, imagining his hands curving around and caressing the hollows and swells of Jane's body like the dress appears to be. If it's possible, Weller is jealous of a damn inanimate object. He's jealous of a goddamn _dress_.

He'd give his entire pension, his condo with Manhattan water views, hell, his soul, to be that dress. On Jane. _Right now._

Still motionless, Weller watches as Jane fishes a tube of ruby red lip gloss out of her evening clutch. Patterson laughs, leaning over and offering Jane a small mirror.

Jane holds up the mirror and slides the applicator across her soft lips.

Kurt feels like he's been sucker punched in the solar plexus. His lungs hitch like there is no air in the room. He watches as she slowly slicks the ruby red gloss across her full bottom lip and then her top. And then several times around the entire perfect circle of the perfect bow of her perfect mouth.

Kurt's tongue darts out to lick his own parched lips.

I want my mouth on hers. _Now_ ** _._** Kurt's inner voice growls out.

Every one of Kurt's nerve endings ignite all at once and his body feels on fire. All the heat seems to coalesce and shoot right to his gut.

His stomach bottoms out like it did when he rode that roller coaster with Spencer.

His heart pumps out a heavy staccato beat that he can hear roaring in his ears and throbbing in his head and all his pulse points.

He feels that low, dragging, pulsing ache in his loins. Oh yes, there is a definite, immediate reaction below his belt. His heart gives a few more agonizing squeezes, reminding him that his reaction isn't just physical.

 _Holy crap,_ he thinks.

Kurt's hand tightens on the whiskey glass to the point his arm is shaking. He's glad his tux pants have a somewhat loose cut because they've suddenly become very constricted. Constricted like his throat with his heart jammed into it.

The hunger, an untamed sensual haze of desire trying to claw its way out, the painful ache in vicinity of his heart, engulf him in endless waves as he watches Jane. It is like nothing he's felt before.

And it scares him. If he was not in better control of his impulses, if his feet didn't feel rooted to the floor in the utter shock of the moment, he'd give into his instincts…

And his instincts were screaming at him _to yank her into the first empty room he can find with a lock on the door, wrap his arms around her, sink a hand into the back of that soft, refined hair do, press his mouth to her luscious lips, push her up against a wall, and allow them to tear into each other in endless utter naked glorious lust._

Weller's heart lurches again.

His heart whispers _she's amazing. I need to hold her and show her all the ways I think she's amazing._

Jane feels the weight of his gaze on her. She turns around and zeroes in on Weller, their eyes locking across the foyer.

Goosebumps immediately cover Jane's body. Her eyes widen as she registers the full heat of Kurt's stare. Her nostrils flare and the back of her neck prickles as she is caught in the waves of intense pheromones surging off Kurt's body.

Witnessing Jane's reaction, Weller's body jerks like it was hit by a jolt of electricity. Corresponding goosebumps erupt along his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

This entire occurence is observed by Reade, Zapata, and Patterson. All three look at each other, waiting for Weller or Jane to make the next move.

This is the memory Weller will revisit later. The moment he recognized that he wants Jane. _He wants her in a bone-searingly desperate way. On multiple levels._

And the truth, _his truth_ , has hit him like the Titanic hitting that north Atlantic iceberg.


	6. Chapter 6: Jeller

I'm back, my pretties. And boy do I have a few chapters to add to this story for your reading pleasure. – _Madame007_

 _Blindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspot_

Blindspot and their characters do not belong to me. I only borrow them to toy with from time to time.

 _Blindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspotblindspot_

New Year's Eve, 12/31/15, 8:52 PM  
Mayfair's Home, NYC

 _Jane's POV_  
Jane stood transfixed to the spot just within the front doors of Mayfair's townhouse. All around her, the noise of festivities and partygoers seem to become muted and recede into the background.

Her eyes were locked with Kurt's gaze for what could have been a few seconds, minutes, or hours. She no longer had the ability to tell. Time had either slowed down or stopped in this vacuum of two that was created once she had noticed a heavy and intent gaze upon her.

If she had not been having four weeks of intense and really steamy sex dreams about Kurt Weller, she would have never recognized the look of pure lust rolling over her in waves. Nor would she have reacted as she was doing now.

Her body had been in a constant state of high arousal whenever she was within a fifty-yard radius of Kurt Weller. It was as if her most basic animal senses were tuned to his every movement. It had made working on cases within close confines with her FBI team extremely difficult and uncomfortable to say the least. .

And now she was able to clearly decipher the look he now threw her way right in the middle of the crowded foyer of their boss's townhouse.

It reminded her too much of the last dream she had only four days ago. It was the one that had left her shaken for the better part of two days. It had been so graphic, so realistic, that she had woken up sweating through her sheets and clothes, her heart charging, nerve endings buzzing from what had felt like such an vivid encounter…


End file.
